Bruises
by Cheetachan
Summary: "Benson?" "What is it Pops?" "I'm growing quite concerned for Thomas, he seems most unwell..."
1. Chapter 1

This story is what happens when you attempt to design an ITP awareness banner, while watching episodes of Regular Show.

**Warning: This story features struggles with a medical condition. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Regular Show or its' characters, they belong to J. G. Quintel. **

* * *

_**Idiopathic**_

_**Thrombocytopenic** _

_**Purpura** _

* * *

He hated nights like this. He had come home completely exhausted, all he had wanted to do was sleep. He had even skipped dinner just so he could go straight to bed, and _sleep_.

But he couldn't.

He tossed and turned, tried all the cliches, from warm milk to counting sheep. (The milk had just made him need to use the bathroom, and the sheep only reminded him that he owed his cousin a phone call) When those failed, he tried reading the most boring book he could think of. It made his head feel numb, but didn't help the situation at all. Eventually all he could do was just stay still, and try to _will_ himself to fall asleep. Hours crawled by, but he remained painfully conscious.

After what felt like eternity, he couldn't take it anymore. He glanced at the clock. Achingly bright numbers flashed 6: 19. Ugh, what was even the _point_ anymore? With a groan, he rolled out of bed and went to get ready for the day.

It figured this would happen when he needed to go to work too. So far he had been lucky enough to avoid this, even if it did still interfere with school. At least at school he didn't need worry about demons, mutants, or highly irate business men.

Not yet anyway, it was probably just a matter time though.

Right now however, he needed to think about how he was going to survive the day at the park. Where not only did these things happen, they happened on a regular basis.

Well, he decided as he started to climb into the shower, he'd just have to deal with it. Not only would he deal with it, he'd get through it. He'd been surviving that crazy place for several months now, and that wasn't about to change- _**HEY! **_

Rubbing his arm, he glared daggers at the shower door. It hadn't even bumped him that hard, but he knew that it didn't matter.

_Great_, he grumbled to himself. _Here comes another bruise. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Does anyone know if Thomas is a paid or unpaid intern? For the life of me I can't remember. **

* * *

_ITP patients struggle with insomnia, and fatigue. Sometimes both at once._

* * *

Even if the start of his day had been less than stellar, Thomas thought it was turning out to be a fairly pleasant afternoon. The weather was nice, various small animals were playing throughout the park, Muscle Man hadn't tried to mess with him, (not once!) and there were even a few families having picnics here and there. Yes, it was all very peacfull for a change. Serene even.

_(Yawn) _Too bad it didn't do anything to keep him awake.

It wasn't like he hadn't gone a day without sleep before, he had. Hundreds of times. It was just the first time he'd have to at _The Park_. Anyone who'd spent more than an hour there would know why that could be an issue. Besides posible paranormal/supernatural/legal_/just-plain-weird_ things that tended to happen there, he was a groundskeeper (well, sort of). Even if it was just part time, he had to do some really hard work. Not to mention some of the machines that were used in the parks upkeep.

Thomas was of the opinion you should be fully conscious when operating anything that had whirling blades on it.

Fortunately, the jobs he had been assigned that day were relatively easy. Picking up litter, hooking up the sprinklers, rinsing off the cart, and raking. _(Yawn)_ Though maybe it wasn't such a great thing they didn't take much effort. If they had then maybe he'd at least have some adrenaline pumping. As it was he could barely keep his eyes open. His attention kept getting drawn to a spot under a nearby tree that looked _so inviting_.

Maybe he could... Take a break? Just, rest a minute? He looked down at the rake in his hands. He really should finish... But It wouldn't hurt to just take a quick break, right? Besides, he glanced around, it wasn't like there was anyone nearby that would care.

Giving one last look in the last direction he'd seen Benson heading in, he walked over to the tree. Settling in where the roots almost made a gnarly armchair, he leaned back and breathed deeply. He could hear the birds and squirrels scurrying up in the branches.

He sighed contentedly. Yeah, this was a good idea. He'd only stay there a little while, just rest his eyes a bit. Only enough to get some energy, then right back to work.

Right... back... to...

…..

…..

…..

"THOMAS!"

"Huh?!" Thomas leapt to his feet, head snapping around as he tried to find what set off the fire alarm. His eyes fell on Benson, red faced and glaring right at him.

_Oh. _

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Uh..."

"I'll tell you what you're doing! Slacking off!"

The intern scrambled to collect himself, "Sorry sir..."

"You bet you are, you don't get paid goof off."

Thomas blinked.

Seeming to realize what he'd just said, Benson let out an irritated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right..."

"Sorry," Thomas apologized again. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I just wanted to rest for a minute." He scratched the back of his head nervously. "Didn't mean to fall asleep there."

The gumball machine regarded him for a moment. "… Well," he began. "This is the first time I've caught you sleeping on the job, so I'll let it slide. _This once_."

"Thanks, sir." Thomas grinned. "Won't happen again." At least he hoped it wouldn't.

"It better not," Benson turned and began walking away. "The last thing we need around here is another slacker..."

Thomas watched Benson's retreating form for a moment, then went back to his raking. He really hoped he'd be able to keep his word. If this became a common occurrence, it could lead to losing his internship. It could lead to questions being asked. It was already a problem at his college, he didn't need that trouble here too.

He let out a small sigh. At least Benson scaring him out of his skin got some adrenaline going. Hopefully, it would last him until the day was done.

….

_(Yawn). _


	3. Chapter 3

**Thought I'd get in a quick update while I had the chance. Hope everybody has a Merry Christmas! **

* * *

_ITP patients are prone to easy bruising, and prolonged bleeding. _

* * *

Aliens. The park was being attacked by aliens.

He really shouldn't have been surprised, all things considered. But still...

**Aliens. **

Hovering just over the park poised to destroy them all, was an armada that honestly looked a lot like dishware. If dishware shot lasers.

Currently they were all holed up in the house, waiting for Skips to come up with a plan.

**BOOM! **

They all flinched as yet another 'practice shot' went off. Thomas couldn't help but wonder how much of the park was even going to be left.

**BOOM! **

Bits of the ceiling began to fall around them.

**BOOM! **

Who would've thought there'd be an intergalactic crises just because Muscle Man claimed to make 'the best sandwiches in the universe'?

"All right," Skips began as he came into the room. He dropped a bunch of gear on the floor. "Here's the plan."

As Skips started to explain, Thomas once again found himself with a choice: Join the fray, or try to find a way to squeeze out. Again.

He knew which one he wanted to do. He also knew which his mom would want, and would keep him from another hour long lecture from his doctor.

His mom tended to be a little overprotective, and when he informed her that he got an internship at a park, she had been very happy.

Of course he had neglected to tell her what sort of things happened at the park. While he thought it was kind of cool, he knew she'd disagree.

His little secret didn't last, when he started coming home with bruises (well, more than he'd have normally) she knew something was going on. And _of course _some of her coworkers liked to eat lunch at the park, and told her all about the weird things that went on there.

She had begged him to quit the internship, but he had refused to. He understood why she worried, really, he did. But he liked it there, you literally never knew what to expect. And he was so _so __**sick **_of the dullness and monotony that had infected his life.

When she had realized he wouldn't budge, she had pleaded with him to at least stay out of dangers way. With some hesitation, he agreed. How could he not have?

Looking back, he wished he hadn't. Danger had a way of getting right in your face there. He wanted to be of use to his friends, but how could he when he tried get out of helping when it was needed most?

He felt like a jerk, he felt like a coward.

He came to a decision.

When skips finished explaining his plan, Thomas didn't waste time launching himself at the pile of gear. He grabbed pieces of body armor, and- was that a hockey stick? sweet - plopped on the ground and started yanking on a pair of shin guards.

He noticed the somewhat surprised looks the others were giving him. It stung a little, but he brushed it aside.

"Well," he grinned up at them. "We gonna kick alien butt or what?"

Mordecai was the first to grin back. "Yeah we are!"

Rigby was quick to follow. "Yeah! Those alien freaks aren't gonna know what hit 'em!"

_"OOOOHHHHHHH!" _

**XxHours laterxX **

"Dude!" Rigby laughed. "Did you see the look on that aliens' face when I snuck up on him? He was all like 'AH MY OLIVES!'"

"Yeah dude," Mordecai nodded. "That was pretty hilarious. But not as hilarious as the look on that other aliens' face when I sucker-punched him! _WOOOAAAAAAHHH!_"

"You guys all fight like old ladies," Muscle Man scoffed. "Did you not see them all running when I started to shoot them with one of their own guns? Chew on that grandmas!"

"Now now," Pops shook his finger. "We all gave a very good show. And I believe you are all forgetting that it was Thomas who managed to get the bomb into the mother ship."

"Huh?" Thomas blinked, a little surprised at being mentioned.

"Aw yeah man!" Rigby grinned up at him. "That thing you did with the hockey stick-" he tried to mimic the motions "- I've never seen anyone do that before!"

Mordecai 'hm'd' in agreement. "It was pretty cool."

"Ah," Thomas scratched the back of his head, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I guess... I didn't really do that much though, you guys are lot better at this than I am."

"Nonsense!" Pops said firmly. "You contributed just as much to the fight as any of us!"

Before Thomas could reply, Muscle Man spoke up.

"I gotta admit bro," he said. "I thought you would've tried to chicken out somehow... But you didn't. You really came through tonight." He gave a curt nod. "You did good Starter Pack."

Had Thomas' jaw not been so firmly attached, it probably would've fallen to the ground. Had _Muscle Man _just pay him a _compliment_?

Thomas couldn't help grinning. "Thanks man."

"Don't get all mushy bro," Muscle Man rolled his eyes, but was grinning as well. "Was just sayin'."

The next hour or so was spent with bragging, jokingly insulting each other, shoving each other around, and lots of laughing. It was... Nice.

For the first time since he started working there, Thomas felt like he wasn't just 'the intern'. Some tag-along that was merely tolerated, not wanted.

He felt like he was part of the group.

And he knew that whatever consequence came because of his decision to fight, it would be worth it.

Even later that night when he was at home staring into the mirror; all the bruises decorating his limbs making him look like a purple leopard. The worst of them all splayed across his stomach, a huge ugly plum colored splotch. The pain was still excruciatingly sharp, but he didn't regret the choice.

It was still totally worth it.


End file.
